


Living Relics

by planningconquest



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Chancellor Leia Organa, Emperor Thrawn, F/F, F/M, Fact Check your History, Female Vader AU, Galactic politics, General Organa - Freeform, Grandma Vader, Jedi, Living Together, Lots of Tea, M/M, Other, Poe Dameron Wins Rebel Relic Finder, Star Trek vibes, Suitless Vader AU, Tea, Terraforming, The Executor Survives AU, living history, senior citizens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planningconquest/pseuds/planningconquest
Summary: Poe Dameron, on a routine flight, stumbles across an entirely new mess for the New Republic to deal with. Finding Imperial relics that can help with the galaxy's most pressing questions and problems.
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 86
Kudos: 318





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anymore.

“I swear I’ve got the most boring job in the New Republic.” Poe Dameron lamented to his droid, watching the star-line outside of his x-wing. Every second that passed, he wanted to fall further and further to sleep. 

[Our job is vital!] BB-8 proclaimed and Poe couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment. 

“It sure is, buddy. Alright, are you ready for real space? Our next jump point is soon.” Even as he spoke, the x-wing fell into real space. Out here, at one of the loneliest jump transfer points in the galaxy, Poe was entranced by the stars beyond. He might have been one of the only people to be out here in decades. Maybe even longer. 

[I like it!]

“I like it too, little buddy.” His console lit up, a faint beeping echoed around the cockpit and Poe frowned. “That’s a distress beacon. Baby, can you figure out where it’s originating from?” 

[Sure] 

He waited, a cold sinking feeling wringing around his stomach. 

[I have followed the signal] BB-8 reported.

“How long will it take to get there? 

[Several hours]

“Damn,” he stared out the viewport. “How old is that signal?” 

[Uknown] 

“They could be dead,” Poe was already moving though, even as he voiced his doubts. It didn’t matter if they were dead, he had a duty to investigate. 

The new x-wing model was fast, and it was still long enough for him to take a short nap. Confident enough in BB-8 to leave them at the controls. He woke with a start at the sight of a small planet, a good distance from a star he hadn’t noticed before. 

“Huh?” The signal was stronger now, and Poe bit his lip as he prayed that he’d find someone still alive. He descended closer to the planet, the blue, green and the polar regions glowing in the sun. It was a beautiful planet, a long mountain range swept up the largest continent, smothered in thick clouds, snowy peaks pushing into the lower atmosphere. It was from that point that the signal seemed to be emerging from 

[Signal located] BB-8 reported, and Poe nodded as he guided the ship from the vacuum of space and into the atmosphere. 

“Alright. Alright.” He squinted as he broke through the clouds, and gazed in shock at the sight below. It wasn’t just the beautiful and plentiful valley where he could see small dots of houses with smoke curling toward the sky and the streets. It wasn’t the long blue river that snaked through the valley.

What made Poe Dameron lean back, mouth falling open, was the sight of aStar Destroyer nestled against the mountain range. 

“BB-8, are you seeing this?” He asked. 

[Affirmative]

“This is insane!” He guided his ship closer for a better look. Sweeping low over the worn husk where snow covered the command deck and the gaping, clawed holes in its side. The beacon beeped even louder in his ear. “I sure hope I don’t get shot,” he muttered, following it until he came across a landing. Or, that what he guessed it was. The beacon was situated in the middle of a field, cleared for landing. “Oh, that’s nice of them.”

He waited after touchdown, staring out into the waving grass around him and then at the distant smoke rising from their chimneys.

“Alright BB-8, keep the engines running. I’m going to investigate.” 

[Be safe, Friend Poe] 

“I’ll do my best.” He was careful climbing out, keeping a close eye on the fields around him. On a planet with Imperials who had been stranded here for who-knows-how-long, he wanted to make a good impression. 

First, he inspected the beacon. It was pretty obviously cobbled together, but ingenious. It was a fantastic piece of work. Whoever had fixed it, really knew what they were doing.

“We saw you do a flyby.” Poe whirled around, one hand reaching for his blaster. The man was easily in his late 50’s, snow-white hair, and a rough weather-beaten face. He was dressed like a farmer, but the way he held his blaster-rifled was all stormtrooper. 

“Hi,” Poe grinned, keeping his hand well away from his blaster. BB-8 woo-ooed with worry. “I caught your beacon out at the hyperspace jump point a few light-years away.” 

“Identify yourself.” 

“Lieutenant Poe Dameron, New Republic Expeditionary Forces. That’s BB-8.” The orange and white droid raised their extender and gave a little wave. 

“Cute.” The Imperial stared at him for a long second. 

“Me or the droid? I’ve gotten compliments for both.”

The other man shrugged and lowered his weapon. “Doesn’t really matter. Come on, bring the droid down, the admiral will want to see you both.” 

“The admiral?” Poe caught up with the man, waving at BB-8 to lower down. “What was the name of your ship? What was the last battle you fought in?” The grass crunched under his boots, and he looked around more. “Hey!” 

“I’m only sent to get you and make sure you weren’t going to do something stupid.” They crested a hill, and Poe looked down on the tidily built village. The houses and buildings were made with a near-seamless blend of wood and pieces of the ship's hull. People milled between them, going about their day. The youngest person Poe spotted was in their late thirties and early forties. Gray hair abounded amongst them, but they all walked with the same Imperial pride. 

[Friend Poe] BB-8 rolled up beside him, staring just as boldly back at the humans. [Friend Poe. Do not leave me]

“Sorry, baby,” he gave the droid an affectionate scuff with his boot. “So, uh.”

“Come on, kid!’ The trooper was half-way down the hill, and Poe nearly skidded the rest of the way as he followed. 

“So,” he turned, trying to recognize anyone. “Hi!” He winked at someone whose beefy armed were tattooed with a familiar insignia. “Hello.” Waving, he kept close to his guide as they weaved through the little village. “Wow, what a turnout!” People were emerging from their houses and little businesses, staring at Poe and his bright orange flight suit and his little round droid as they moved through the middle of town. 

They paused outside a house that was just a little nicer than the others. The style more archaic, the entire building was made of wood, without any of the metal additions. Clearly they had put a little more effort into this house.

“Admiral!” The trooper knocked on the door. It opened, revealing a wispy white hair curling around his ears and sharp gray eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows. He was shorter than both of them, but he stood with every grace and command presence on his front porch as if it were the bridge of his downed ship. Something about this face niggled to Poe.

Out of respect for the man, Poe took a step back and snapped his sharpest salute. “Lieutenant Poe Dameron, sir. New Republic Expeditionary Forces.”

“I see.” The old Admiral saluted in return, his eyes skipping over his uniform and then focusing on the BB-8. “I see the rebels kept that disgusting color scheme.” A few someones chortled behind him, and Poe shrugged. 

“It’s worked well so far. Uh,” he waved at his droid. “This is BB-8.” His droid waved, rolling forward a bit as a greeting. 

“So the rebels won?” He heard someone ask and Poe grimaced 

“It depends on who you ask,” he didn’t want to make people hate him. “Sir, how long have you been here?” 

“Hmmm,” the admiral stared at him silently. Poe was familiar with these tactics. His parents, aunts and uncles, and commanding officers had all tried to use silence to pressure the answers out of him. He was a pro at blithely ignoring awkward situations. “Well, I’d have our finest interrogation chambers set up with our prime interrogator but our ship has been gutted.” 

“And filled with snow.” 

“And filled with snow,” the gray eyes narrowed. “And our interrogator is...where is she?” 

“Pulling weeds,” someone chimed in. 

“Pulling weeds,” the old man rolled his eyes. “Good God, she’s pulling weeds. Well, come on in, Lt. Dameron. I’ll make some tea.” 

“Tea?” He followed the old man into the house, amazed by the construction.

“Remove your boots, I don’t want to be sweeping the muck out.” 

“Yes, sir.” BB-8 whistled beside him, spinning in place as he tried to yank off a boot. With a mischievous bleep, the droid rolled forward and bumped against his leg. “SHIT! BB!” They rolled away, giving the droid approximation of a laugh as Poe picked himself off the floor. “Some people,” he said, glaring at the unrepentant droid, “have nice droids.” 

“I honestly don’t know who tricked you into thinking that.” The admiral said, and Poe hobbled into the rest of the house with a slight bruise on one knee. There were decorations hanging from the walls. They looked like they’d been taken out of the ship and officers quarters. 

“Holy shit!” Poe, ignoring the admiral, pointed to the wall opposite him. “That’s...you guys have the “Alderanni Nerf Herds”! That’s...that was the last Alderanni moss painting in existence! What was it doing aboard your ship?” 

“Captured from a ship of Alderanni rebels,” the admiral said, and Poe smelled a fire being lit. In a small pit, set into a low table, there was a merry fire blazing. On the mesh stretched over the round opening, was a ceramic tea-pot that had obviously been made from whatever clay was on-planet. It wasn’t decorated, but it was glazed. “One of the first decent tea-pots to come out of the kiln,” the man said when he followed his gaze. “There are much nicer ones, once they managed to get the process of decoration and glazing down.” 

“I like it,” Poe said. The admiral was sitting in a chair that had no legs to speak of. It was resting on a short dais with a squat back that curved forward to form armrests. It even had a cushion. It also looked nothing like an Imperial design. It looked like something he’d seen at the Yavin Temple. There was another chair just like it, to the admirals left, and on the other side of the table where the teapot was beginning to steam. Two little tea-cups that looked like small bowls with tall sides were produced, and the admiral lifted the tea-pot off the fire after wrapping a piece of cloth around the handle. 

Curious, BB-8 rolled up to the table, following the proceeding and beeping as the admiral added a few pinches of tea-leaves to the pot. Poe kept watch from the corner of his eyes as he surveyed the room. 

It was homely, comfortable, and lived in. there were tracks worn into the wood, and the window shutter was propped open to let a cool breeze through. It showed distant woods beyond a little backyard and a small porch. 

“This is amazing!” Down a short hall, he could see things that looked like doors to other rooms, and he peeked around a corner to see a kitchen. There wasn’t any running water, but there was a fire-pit, cooking utensils (taken from the ship) and dishes drying on a wooden rack. Two cups, two plates, two forks, and two spoons. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” He grinned widely as an Imperial mouse droid rolled from beneath the work-table and up to him, beeping wildly. “Hey there, little buddy. Wow, you’re an old, old, old model. Looks like someone has been taking care of you” He knelt down beside the droid, running a hand over its slightly battered casing and tilting his head to the side. Poe lifted the droid up into his lap, turning it over to watch the little wheels spin uselessly. Wrapped around one of the wheels, were several long, gray strands of hair. “I’ve brought my droid along, maybe you two can make friends.” The droid whizzed past him to greet BB-8. 

“Do all rebels treat their droids like pets?” 

Poe glanced out the kitchen window to see people milling around, obviously waiting for information. 

“How long have you been stranded here?” He walked back into the dining area, grinning at the two droids beeping and buzzing back and forth to each other.

“Almost 25 years now,” the admiral was pouring tea. 

“That’s a long time.” Poe plopped down in the seat to the left, noticing how the man’s eyes narrowed, and pretended not to notice. “I’m sure you and your men are keen to go home, but the nearest place I can get a signal out is about two jumps away. My x-wing is capable of it, but.” 

“What happened after the second Death Star?” The man asked, picking up his own tea-cup and passing the other to Poe. “Lt. Dameron, I have almost 50,000 soldiers who were aboard my ship when we went down. We have had no news for two and a half decades.”

“After the second Death Star was destroyed...the Rebellion did take the Core and started mopping up Imperial warlords. There were a lot of them. It was messy, but the New Republic relocated to Hosnian Prime.” 

“No longer Coruscant?”

“No,” he sipped the tea. It was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. “Uh, Chancellor Organa was elected a few years ago after spending most of her time leading the charge against the warlords. The Imperial Remnant is governed by Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

“Thrawn?”

“Yeah, stumbled out of the Unknown Regions about 15 years ago. Pretty much stalled the Alliance. Both governments reached a peace treaty 10 years ago. The Outer-Rim formed its own government called the Coalition...technically this planet is in Coalition territory.” 

“Run by the Hutts?”

“Oh, no...uh...the Hutts were overthrown...violently ...very violently. The leader of the Coalition is Kitster Banai. Mandalore is independent, again. Currently run by an ex-bounty hunter named Din Djarin, he’s got the Darksaber.” 

“The what?”

“Long story. Hm, the Corellian systems are also independent...and pretty much everyone argues about taxes and borders. There are minor skirmishes, but...not all-out war.” 

“I see...that is very abbreviated rundown, but thank you.” The man leaned back in his seat and Poe stared around the room some more. 

“Master Skywalker restarted the Jedi Order. Some people stay full-time, but most people come during the summer months. He’s married, about four kids of his own and a bunch of adopted ones. Every Jedi out there calls him Uncle Luke.” 

“That’s.” 

“And Chancellor Organa has a few kids. Ben, the oldest. The twins, Jacen and Jaina.”

“Very Corellian names,” the older man scoffed. 

“She did marry General Solo. Then there’s Anakin.” The old man blinked rapidly and stared at him for a moment. “You know, named after you.” 

“My name is Firmus.” 

“I know,” Poe said simply. “I was talking to the eavesdropper, Lord Vader.” He clutched his tea-cup closer as a door opened down the hall, and a tall figure emerged from the scant shadows. Tall, world-weary, and older than Poe ever thought the woman would age, was Darth Vader. Her hair was long and gray, pulled back into a neat set of braids. The gray and blue dress was a simple fashion, with a sash around her waist from which her lightsaber hung. Her arms were crossed, and her prosthetic hand gleamed in the low light. 

“What?” Admiral Firmus Piett glanced between Poe and Lord Vader, “how?” 

“That ship out there is an Executor Class Star- Destroyer. The first one of its kind. There was a stormtrooper, ex, with a 501st tattoo on his arm. Then here, you have a painting whose last known location was Tantive IV, when General, sorry, Chancellor Organa was captured a few days before the Battle of Yavin. The kitchen had two sets of everything, the droid had long hair caught in its wheels. Your hair,” he pointed to Lord Vader. The woman smirked, and it was more terrifying in person than any of the historical holos he’d seen.

“None of that indicates that this is Lord Vader’s home.” 

“She was assumed dead,” Poe said, feeling less smug as the woman stalked across the room. “But it was the furniture.”

“The furniture?” Firmus rested his head in a bony hand. “Good heavens.” 

Poe licked his lips as BB-8 rolled around the woman, investigating her. “It’s not Imperial style, its Jedi style.” 

“How do you even know that? Of all the rebel pilots that could have come across us, it's the one who can identify Jedi-style furniture?” Piett was lamenting, but Vader stared him down steadily. 

“My parents used to sell produce to the Jedi Temple and they left me with Uncle Luke when they had to go on missions.” He leaned away, gulping. “Ye, gods, you are scarier in person….so much scarier.”

“I’m glad,” Lady Vader said, her voice deep and smooth, “that I haven’t lost my touch.” 

“Yep,” he barked out a laugh as BB-8 rolled up the woman, bumping against her legs and whistling. 

“Do not worry, little droid,” she stared down at Poe, and then to the droid. “Fortunately, your master wasn’t foolish enough to lie. You’re in my seat, rebel.” 

“Uh.” 

“Move!” 

“Right,” he jumped out of the seat, mentally cheering himself for not getting murdered. “Okay, so. Uh...what.” 

“You will carry the message of our survival to the New Republic and only to the New Republic.”

“Uh.”

“You will carry this message secretly, Poe Dameron. I have no doubt that the fact of our survival will cause more political insanity than anyone wants.”

Luke was going to freak out. Leia was going to freak out. The entire galaxy was going to freak out. The Imperial Remnant was going to fall into a panic. 

Poe started and then he nodded slowly. “Right, I will...absolutely do that.” He squinted. “How did you even survive?” 

“Excuse you?” She settled back in her chair as if it were a throne. 

“You all...the Executor was presumed destroyed. Uncle Luke told me.” 

“It was the will of the Force,” she said, and then turned her imperious glare to Piett. He sighed and handed over his tea-cup. “We ought to get more of these,” Vader continued, “if we’re going to be having guests more often.” 

“Yeah,” Poe licked his lips and he settled against the wall, still shocked out of his mind. “I agree.” 

“There’s a small hostel down the road, you can stay there and then leave in the morning. Until then, I want to know everything.” 

“Everything?” He asked, and Vader nodded. 

“Everything.” She settled down to wait, and Poe cleared his throat as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“Well, it started right after the Battle of Endor.” Poe mused after a few seconds. "When everything went straight to hell."


	2. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron Delivers the news and Luke takes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do the meeting justice.

Poe Dameron was acting strangely cagey. He was standing the middle of Chancellor Organa’s office, eyes flickering from the chancellor to the Chewbacca, to R2-D2, and then to Master Skywalker. He had insisted they all be there for the meeting. 

He wasn’t even looking at some of the other government officials. 

“Lt. Dameron,” Leia Organa wanted to scold him as she used to when he was young, but he was an officer now and not the little boy who used to turn Threepio off so he and Ben could stay up past bedtime. “If you would please.”

“Right, yes, sir. Erm….On a routine mission, my ship picked up an emergency distress beacon. It set me off schedule, but when I went to investigate.” BB-8 beeped at his side, nudging his boot. “Yes, sorry, we investigated. There...we found...erm.” 

“Poe?” Luke asked gently, his presence was usually calming, but today it seemed to set the young pilot on edge. 

For several seconds the pilot stared nervously and then sighed. “I found a stranded Star-Destroyer...not just any...but a Super-Star Destroyer.”

“A Super-Star Destroyer is why I was called into a meeting and.” 

“It was the first Super-Star Destroyer ever made,” Poe continued, making steady eye contact with Leia as he reported, “and there were a little over 50,000 survivors….including.” Without warning, Poe pulled a lightsaber from one of the many pockets of his flight uniform and handed it to Luke. “I was ordered to give this to you as proof of life.” 

“I.” Luke took the lightsaber with every sign of reverence and awe, shock written across his face. “This saber...it...belonged to…” Bright blue eyes focused on Poe. “She’s still alive?” 

“Yes, Master Luke,” Poe wavered as Leia set her hand to her chest, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe. The others in the room were only just beginning to understand something momentous had happened. “I’ve got...evidence. Besides this.” He gestured to BB-8 and the droid obligingly broadcast an image of a small homely porch. Sitting on one of the lower steps was Poe, a cup of something in his hand. To his left, in a meditating pose on a decently sized cushion was Lord Vader, fallen Jedi Knight, the scourge of the rebellion, the right hand of Palpatine, and one of the best starfighter pilots in history. 

She looked...old. New lines and wrinkles in her face, but still full of youthful vibrancy. 

Several of the others gasped, hissing in fear and shock as Lord Vader lifted a cup to her lips and sipped. She sighed, closing bright blue eye and smiling faintly 

“At least.” Leia and Luke jolted at her voice. One they hadn’t heard one anything except recordings in two and a half decades. “You brought a decent drink.” 

“It’s um,” the recording of Poe hiccuped, gesturing with his cup. “This is good shit my friend gave me. It’s, uh, Corellian vintage.” 

“Better than the rot-gut we’ve been drinking,” a third voice chimed in, and the recording shifted to another man. Pale, elderly, wearing clean but shabby clothes, and looking every bit as Imperious as Vader. Admiral Piett. 

“Yesh,” Poe gulped down the rest of his cup and leaned against the support beam with a grin. “I didn’t think your guys’ stuff was so bad. You managed to save most of what was in the officer's lounge.” 

“I’m not breaking that bottle of wine open,” Vader warned fiercely, and she adjusted on her cushion. “That’s a gift. Come, little droid,” BB-8 rolled closer and the holo of Darth Vader patting the droid filled the room. “Force, I miss R2.” The droid in the room bleated sadly and Luke didn’t translate. “Have they been taking care of him?” 

“He taught,” It was obvious that Poe, Piett, and Vader were all tipsy. “He taught my baby curse words. Curse words from my baby! It’s not right!” 

“That’s my R2,” Vader cooed, “he learned most of those from...from my husband.” 

“No!” Stunned, the image of Poe tried to stand but found gravity too much for him. “No!” 

“Oh, oh yes,” Vader said almost gleefully. “He scandalized Threepio all the time. It was hilarious.”

The holo cut off, leaving the room in stunned silence. The chancellor and senators all trying to image the damage the surviving Sith Lord could do to the delicate peace. Han whistled. 

“Drinking on duty with a Sith Lord?” He asked Poe, who had the grace to blush. “Well done.”

“She’s alive,” Luke blinked a dozen times. “She’s alive!” 

“Do I win rebel relic finder,” Dameron had the audacity to ask, and Leia Organa tossed her datapad at his head. He dodged and sobered as the room reeled. 

Luke wasn’t lifting his eyes from the lightsaber. Han seemed to be tapping his blaster with increasing urgency, and Artoo was beeping at BB-8 for a copy of the recording. The room was a frozen as Hoth. 

Their bogeyman had returned. The polarizing figure that was Darth Vader was still alive. There were neo-Imperialist who wanted to return to Palpatine’s Empire that would salivate at getting their hands on her. Who worshipped the ground she walked on. The Cult of Darth Vader would return to haunt them, and everything about the Skywalker would be once-again, raked over the coals. 

“We have to tell Thrawn,” a senator said weakly, pressing a hand to his chest and staring at the others. “And...are...how did they survive?” 

“The Executor was destroyed,” Luke muttered faintly. “I felt… I felt her disappear into the Force. I haven’t...she’s...alive!” 

“There are thousands of others that have survived too,” Han pointed out, “we can’t just focus on tall, dark and...creaky?” 

“What are we going to tell the children?” Luke blurted suddenly. “Fuck! I have to tell Mara!” 

Poe felt like he was intruding in a family crisis as well as a burgeoning political one, but as the one that had tripped over the aging Imperial relics, it was his job to speak for them.

“Dameron,” Chancellor Ogana asked after a few minutes, “what else did you observe?” 

“They gutted their ship, your excellency. With tools available and materials, they set out building a distress beacon and then making themselves comfortable as they waited for anyone to hear the beacon. Apparently they used tents at first, but when it got too much for some of them, they began to build houses and such. It’s a decent colony, ma’am, but technologically limited. They don’t have the materials for space flight, which is why they’ve been stranded as long as they have been. Lord Vader doesn’t want the throne, she said that specifically. She’s said specifically that her main concern is the men that crash-landed with her.” 

“What do you think that means?” Leia asked and Poe sucked in a breath. 

“Healthcare, a means and way home if they still have access to them. Communication devices, transport, fabrics, as well as back pay.”

“Do they have use for money,” the senator asked.

“Not that I could tell, sir, but if they’re going to integrate back into society then they’re going to need it.” 

“We never did find most of Vader’s money,” Leia mused, thinking about the lost credits and treasures that Vader had stored in a secret vault somewhere. Speculation about it had fueled dozens of searches and even more campy films than Leia wanted to think about. 

“Wasn’t this the plot of a B-movie once?” Han wondered and Luke finally looked up from the saber that had taken his hand. 

“That was about a ship with zombie Imperials,” the Jedi Master answered. “And I don’t think that Mother was in it.”

“Handsome pilot comes across a distress beacon,” Han continued, “goes to rescue the lost souls and ends up having to shoot his way out of a crisis. I remember, Jaina and Jacen loved that film.” 

“I didn’t think I’d find Darth Vader and the 501st!” Poe protested. “I was just investigating.” 

“You did very well,” Leia assured the distressed pilot, wondering if the galaxy was going to resume normalcy at any point. Her heart was trying to jack-rabbit out of her chest. “We...are going to have to inform Emperor Thrawn about this...and Kitster since they’re in his space.” 

“Uncle Kitster is going to love this,” Luke muttered, and he stood suddenly. 

“Luke?” Leia called after him, and her brother paused. She knew where he was going. Nothing would be able to stop him, and Leia wasn’t inclined to try. “Be careful.” 

“I will,” he promised and swept out of the room.

Leia sat back heavily and wondered why the Force had been so cruel as to bring her mother back to life. 

#$#$#$

The air in the town and in the surrounding areas were the stranded Imperials was tense and nervous. Weapons were brought out of storage and checked several times, just in case. Narrowed eyes scanned the horizons and sky, searching for the ships they hoped would be coming. There was hope in the air too, and some began to mutter about what they could do now. 

What they might be able to do. 

Dreams that had faded after the first decade. 

Firmus handled everything in their house as quietly as he could. Vader had taken to meditating for longer periods of time, working through her lightsaber forms without her weapon, and pacing relentlessly. He got more dishware, put in an order for a new futon, and managed to convince the potter to make a few cups in the older style that Vader favored. She had spent most of the day staring moodily into the backyard, not even touching her tea. She had even dug her old robes out of the bottom of her closet. 

He wasn’t sure who would come first, but he’d be prepared when they did come. It was late one evening and he was sweeping the front porch clean when he heard someone clear their throat. 

“Excuse me,” Piett turned, lifting his broom in preparation for an attack. Standing at the bottom of the front porch steps was a familiar face, covered with an impressive beard and wearing tan and brown Jedi robes, was Luke Skywalker. “I mean you no harm, Admiral Piett.” The officer glanced around wildly, wondering why he hadn’t heard a ship approaching. 

“Even after all these years,” Piett muttered. “You can still sneak your way into Imperial compounds.” 

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Skywalker replied demurely, but his eyes were focused on the house beyond Piett. 

“So it would seem.” Piett didn’t think he was listening, because as he’d spoken, the door opened. Frame in the flickering light in the house was Darth Vader. Looking every bit the legend from Rebel nightmares. Tall, imposing, dangerous, with her eyes flickering from Skywalker to the quiet street beyond him. Without a word, Piett stepped to the side and made himself as unobtrusive as possible. 

Vader looked down at her son and seemed at a total loss of words. 

Skywalker clenched his right hand, and her eyes refocused. Vader’s own prosthetic arm had had to be salvaged with every bit of delicate skill she had. The already vintage device had been dug from a box in her room and re-attached as soon as her health had recovered. 

“Impressive beard,” she said after a moment, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Most impressive.” 

“Mother,” Luke Skywalker reached up to brush tears from his eyes and they both hesitated for several minutes. “Excellent crash landing.” 

“Thank you,” she stepped from the house and moved across the porch, passing Piett, until she was at the top of the stairs. 

“Mother,” Skywalker said, and no matter how often he did that, Piett would never recover from that fact. “You...survived.” 

“Yes,” Vader didn’t say that she very nearly hadn’t, and reached out, to set her hand on his shoulder or not, Piett didn’t know. The next thing he saw was Lord Vader hugging Luke Skywalker as if he might turn to so much dust and drift away. Skywalker only barely reached her collarbone, folding into her side like a child and clutching at her black robes as he would never let go. 

Vader had taken a great deal out of her quarters, but her most prized possession had been a flicking holo of a teenage Luke Skywalker. Carrying his helmet and smiling awkwardly at the holo, while looking painfully young and desperate. Everything that had survived in Skywalkers quarters had been repurposed and reused, and all of the gifts and presents she’d assembled for her long-lost son were scattered over the settlement 

“I can’t believe it,” Skywalker choked out, lifting his face up and his eyes were filmed over with tears. “I can’t believe you survived. I can’t believe that you’re here.” 

“Luke.” Piett hadn’t seen Vader grieving since the last clone trooper had passed away five years ago. It was always a shock to see a genuine emotion on her face. “You’ve aged...you have a beard.” 

Piett honestly hadn’t given too much thought to Skywalker or the fact that one day he would no longer look like a baby-faced recruit. 

“I like the beard,” Luke replied, his voice had matured too, deep and gentle. It was a good voice for a father to have. “My wife likes the beard.” 

“Yes,” Vader sounded as pained and grieved. “Your wife.” She seemed entranced with his face..and gave a smile so faint that Piett wasn’t even sure it was there. “Come you...must...tell me everything.” 

"I brought your saber," Skywalker blinked tears from his eyes and reached into his clock to produce the lightsaber. "I thought...you would like it back." 

"Thank you...son," Vader closed her hands over the saber before rehooking it onto her belt. "I..."

"Would you like some tea?" Piett asked quietly, anything to break the two from their reverie. 

"Tea," Luke Skywalker smiled through his tears. "Would be lovely."


	3. Meetings and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Thrawn holds a meeting. 
> 
> Vader and Luke go get breakfast.

Thrawn, once exiled from his homeworld, one-time Grand Admiral, exiled by force from the Empire by a pack if purgill, lived on the edge of the known galaxy for years, and now Emperor had faced many drastic changes in his lifetime. 

He had the unpleasant feeling that this change might be the worst one yet. 

Several seconds after the holo-recording of Lord Vader died away, he remained silent. The rest of his staff was equally silent, not in contemplation, but in shock. Most of them were too young to remember Lord Vader at the height of her glory, at the height of her terrible and awesome power...but there were stories. 

Hundreds of stories that painted Lord Vader as the end-all, be-all of monsters. Vilified, glorified, hated and adored, all in turn. 

He turned to Grand Admiral Palleon, his old friend and someone who had known Vader personally. The old man’s jaw was tight and his fists were clenched. 

“Grand Admiral?” 

“Of course not even the Death Star could kill her,” he let out a suspiciously wet chuckle. “I was about to retire!” 

“This does present an unpleasant conundrum,” Thrawn admitted. He wasn’t a fool to believe that there weren’t soldiers and officers in the Empire who would back Vader is she wanted to claim the throne. 

Not that it was much of a throne anymore. Nothing compared to the heights that Palpatine had achieved, but it was still an Imperial throne nonetheless. Having Lord Vader, a true bastion of the Old Empire sitting there? The Neo-Imperialists would be salivating over the chance to set her on it. 

“The soldiers and officers,” he said, simply to break the awed and terrified silence, “are entitled to back-pay of course. Their records and accounts will simply be re-calculated to show that they have been in service.” 

“But they are in Kitsters space.” Thrawn glanced over at the woman who had spoken. Grand Admiral Salone was also a bit of a relic and spent her time functioning as a well-armed ambassador. She and President Kitster were unlikely friends. He saw no reason to suspect that she wouldn’t do her job, but he did fear she intended to retire in Coalition space. “Wouldn’t that put them in his jurisdiction?” 

“They are still our soldiers,” Palleon grunted, “which means we need to handle back pay and relocation.’

“I can’t believe she is still alive.” His aide muttered. Thrawn ignored him. 

“I must discuss with Chancellor Organa how she would prefer to have the announcement made.” 

“I can’t believe Piett got that old,” Salone said, “he looks wizened.”

“Right?” Palleon’s impressive and well-groomed mustache shivered. “Drink on duty! With a Republic officer no less!” 

“She does seem to have mellowed.” 

“I didn’t think she was a weepy drunk.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Salone chuffed a bit, “but I always knew her attachment to droids was odd. You don’t suppose she meant that wretched R2 unit that is always following one of the Skywalkers around.” 

“That is exactly the droid,” Palleon rubbed his nose. “It once tasered me during the war.” 

“R2-D2 and Lord Vader have been companions since the Trade Federations invasion of Naboo,” Thrawn interjected. 

“That is old history,” whistled someone. “That was what...50 some odd years ago?”

“Is Veers still alive?” 

“If he was aboard the ship then I don’t see why not.”

“What if he had a heart attack? You know, fighting to survive isn’t the best thing for an old man’s health.” 

“You,” Salone pointed at Palleon, “are older than he is.” 

“Yes, well...I’m in better shape.” 

“Really?” She reached across the space between them and poked his expanding stomach. “Is that the case?” 

“Oh, shut up.” Palleon brushed her off. “We will have to send supplies of course, and possibly security. We don’t want those weirdos.” He paused and glanced around the situation room. All eyebrows were raised at him, daring Palleon to suggest that Lord Vader wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, even if she was in her 60’s. “Yes, well. You all know what I mean.” 

“A joint statement would work best,” his aide said, shaking his head slightly. “At no point do we reveal the whereabouts of their planet, but we do have to...tell people...a lot of soldiers will be coming home.”

And how would they handle it? 

Zevlon Veers had always hated his father deeply, he had defected to the Rebellion right after the Battle of Endor. He also had six children and would probably never let the old Veers near them. 

Soontir Fel, Black Two, had been married to the famous starlet Wnyssa Starflare, who was also the sister of the Rebellions Wedge Antilles. Baroness Starflare had become an eccentric society lady., and there was no telling how she’d react to having her husband drop back into her life. He had been supposed dead for 25 years now. 

And Luke Skywalker...Leia Organa...every single new Jedi student that lived. Mara Jade...Han Solo. 

Thrawn wasn’t one for gossip, but he wanted to be the fly on the wall for that reunion. 

“We will send an initial detachment,” Emperor Thrawn decreed, “to assess the situation, make a list of necessary supplies, and interview all of the troops on what they plan to do. A survey team as well. Mr. Ackroyd,” his aide straightened. “Have the guest suite of the palace converted into a fulltime residence for Lord Vader.”

“What?” 

Thrawn missed the days when he could give orders without being questions incessantly.

“We cannot pretend that once travel is available, that Lord Vader will come here. She had connections to the New Republic, the Coalition, and the Empire. We must have space prepared for her inevitable visit.” They were silent, probably considering the likelihood of Vader killing him and taking his place. 

“Who should be sent to represent?” Salone asked, and the room was silent. No one wanted to go. 

“We’ll have to send someone who won’t be wowed by Master Skywalker,” Thrawn mused. At their frowns, he continued. “If you believe that Luke Skywalker will not immediately jump at the opportunity to see his mother, then you are all fools.”

“I’m trying to image Lord Vader as a grandmother.”

They were all silent for a minute, remember Vader’s lean, muscular form from the video. She was almost exactly the same, having aged very well and looking younger than any of them even 

“God, I feel old.” 

#$#$#

Luke Skywalker woke with a faint start and stared sideways at the old mouse droid that had roused him. It edged into the room he’d taken for the night, almost eyeballing him, and then whizzed from the room squealing. 

He sat up, pushing the blankets down and stretched out his back. The futon was low to the ground but perfectly comfortable for handmade with very few modern tools. On the rack near the window, his outer robes were hanging and there was a bowl of water for washing his face and brushing his teeth. 

Pale sunlight streamed through the window, it had no glass and was essentially a framed hole in the wall with shutters that were only drawn in rainstorms and during the winter. 

“Luke,” he glanced over, the door slid open the rest of the way. It wasn’t even a door that worked with hinges. Hinges were too hard to manufacture, but it was a thin piece of wood, with paper panes, that slide open on a small track. Technically there were two doors and they could slide backward and forward past each other. 

What really arrested his attention, was his mother. Instead of the black robes, she had been wearing, she seemed to be back in her regular clothes. Never before had she looked like more like Shmi Skywalker. Luke had an ancient holo of his grandmother, faithfully copied, and assumed that Vader’s style choice had been framed by faint memories of her mother. 

The belt cinching her waist was still black, and her empty lightsaber look was clearly bothering her since her hand was set on the spot it usually hung. 

“What time is it?” He yawned deeply, the Force shifted around him, soothing his tiredness. 

“Ten.” 

“Ten?” He jumped to his feet, stepping off the futon and rushing to the pitcher of water and began splashing his face. “Stars,” he blinked through the water to stare at his mother. “I haven’t had to set an alarm clock. One of the children usually wakes me up at this point. Jumping into bed or some other pranks.” 

“Right,” she muttered stiffly, “come on. Lt. Zale made bread.”

“Oh, that smells lovely.” He pulled on his robes, and as they wandered into the rest of the house, he smiled. 

“Why are you so smug?” Vader asked, looking stern. 

“You have a lovely home.” 

“You’ve said that,” she pointed out, and they passed Admiral Piett. “Morning, Firmus.” 

“Morning, sir.” He nodded back, not looking up from his knitting project. 

“He makes,” she whispered to Luke as they moved down the front porch steps and onto the hard-packed dirt road running through the little town, “the lumpiest blankets. 20 years we’ve been here and he still ruins all the fabric.” 

“Mother, you have a lovely home because you’re comfortable in it.” Luke tucked his hands into his sleeves, taking a breath off crisp morning air and sighing. “And you have made it a home.” The scent of wood fires, cooking food floated through the air. “It is an unusual style though.” 

“I like it,” Vader said firmly. 

“Good morning, Lord Vader,” they looked to the right. Sitting on a front porch, each holding a cup of tea, were some of the younger inhabitants of the village. All having been about 18 when the ship crashed. 

Vader nodded but gave no reply. “And besides, my son, no doubt your home is annoyed and your disappearance.” 

“Probably, but they’ll handle it. You’ll get a chance to meet all of them soon enough. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll just drop all of them off and leave you to babysit.”

“Babysit?” She grimaced, “you wildly underestimate my child-care abilities.” Her face froze, stiffening with regret and some grief. “Son, it may not be wise.”

“When Owen and Rey, and the twins learn that you’re alive, they’re going to want to visit.” He decided to ignore the sense of self-loathing emanating from her. “I brought their baby holos.” 

“Hold up!” They looked up, the bakery window was just a foot away. A grizzled ex-stormtrooper was leaning out of it, staring at Luke. “You have kids?” 

“I do.” 

The man’s eyes slid over to Vader, and he was visibly fighting a smile. 

“Zale,” she snarled, and he nodded a few times before ducking away past the window. 

“What do you want?” He asked. 

“The usual,” Vader’s expression was thunderous, almost as dangerous as the one she’d worn in Bespin. “But a little more this time.” 

“A rebel-rousing guest!” The man reappeared at the door. Luke looked past and into an enormous kitchen. A bizarre combination of brick and metal. “Want to try our new experiment?” 

“Something with uglyberries?” Vader asked and he nodded. 

“Extra sweet,” he promised and Luke hid his grin in his shoulder. Finding out his mother had a raging sweet-tooth had been his favorite thing to learn about her. 

Once they had two uglyberry tarts, and two loaves of bread that were bright yellow and with a mouth-watering aroma, they headed back. 

“You have all really made this place into a home.”

“It has been twenty years,” she replied, demolishing her tart in a few bites before making eyes at his. Luke shielded his pastry and took a bite. He swallowed and then passed the rest to his mother. 

“That is too sweet. Oh, yuck. I think even the twins couldn’t eat that.” 

“Hmph,” she scoffed “But after a few years with no rescue, we made our tents into permanent homes and then…” She cleared her throat. “The only alternative was to keep living. Enough of that. After we’ve eaten we’re going to spar. I haven’t had a decent duel in ages.” 

Luke Skywalker wasn’t too dignified to bounce onto the tips of his toes. “Excellent idea.”

“Lord Vader,” a man jogged up from behind. “Lord Vader, the generator out in Black Town is hiccuping again. They sent me up to ask if you’ll come down and take a look at it later.” 

“I’ll be down,” 

“Soontir Fel?” Luke asked, aghast and amazed. The fine faced pilot, celebrity and war hero, looked as lean and muscular as the others. He had grown even more handsome in the intervening years, aging gracefully into an older gentleman. Even now, he carried himself with the utmost dignity. 

“Skywalker,” the man glanced at him. “That is an excellent beard. Didn’t think you could grow one.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Luke tugged at his beard, staring at the man. It felt like he’d fallen back through time. He felt as young as he had the first time he’d met Soontir Fel. 

“How is Wnyssa?” He asked and Luke felt his nervous anticipation. 

“Excellent health, eccentric society lady, and the weirdest aunt in the galaxy. Wedge adopted a bunch of children over the course of the last few years.” 

“Wedge Antilles?”

“Ah,” it struck Luke now, that the man might not have known. “Yes, Wedge is Wynssa’s brother.”

“Oh, Gods!” Fel barked out a disbelieving laugh. “OH, GODS!” Horrified realization struck. “I shot him down.” 

“Oh, yes,” Luke glanced at his mother. She avoided looking at him. 

“I’ll take a look at the generator in an hour or so,” Vader interjected, “come, Luke.” With a firm grip on his shoulder, she pulled him away. “Rebels and criminals, did they all have children?” 

“Ah, most of us...yes. What is Blacktown?”

“The little town that most of the TIE pilots decided to move to. They almost all became ranchers. The generator is to keep away the large scale predators that prey on our... cows. It had a mild electrical charge and the beasts can’t stand electricity. It doesn’t hurt the animals though.”

“You all domesticated local animals?”

“Most of them, the ranches are enormous, and we’ll have to get a horse to get all the way to the generator and its auxiliary units.

“What’s a horse?”

“It’s what we call the ones we ride now.” Vader raised a hand, pointing toward the end of town where two men were atop tall, graceful quadrupeds with long tails and manes. 

“Very nice,” Luke whistled. 

“Yes, we’ll go to the stable and borrow a pair.” 

“You know,” he said, as they turned back up the path to the porch of her house. “I’m surprised I haven’t been hounded more.” 

“That’s because she gave strict orders for you to be left alone,” Firmus glanced up from his lumpy blanket. “I doubt anyone would survive trying to take your attention away from your mother.” 

“Very true, Vader agreed, taking the seat beside Fimus and leaving Luke to settle on the front step. “Very true.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader spar.

A lot could happen in two decades. 

A Sith could stroll through the darkness and emerge more or less in the light. 

A Jedi could teach and raise the newest Jedi order, saving the Fallen with compassion and gentleness. 

An admiral could learn to deal with Vader's eccentricities. 

"Do you have to do this?" Piett demanded, sitting on the back porch and watching Lord Vader and Luke Skywalker facing off. Red against blue, identical eyes narrowed and watchful for a movement. 

"I want to see if he's gotten any better," Vader smirked. 

"I want to see how poor she's become," Luke grinned, boyish and challenging. 

Piett sighed deeply. Just because Vader hadn't had a sparring partner in decades, didn't mean she hadn't been faithful to her training. Not the mention she had been the best duelist in the galaxy for decades. Skywalker, on the other hand, now had experience and practice to match the Sith, and he hadn't been stranded. 

In the blink of any eye, she moved. Blue and red crashed against each other, sparking and hissing. Piett watched, mouth dropping open, as he ruminations were proven correct. 

Vader's age meant nothing, not really. Not when she had so much experience and practice on her side. She'd aged well, healthy as could be despite her best efforts, and Piett wouldn't pit an entire fleet against her. 

Skywalker had practice, training, and dedication, and he was unorthodox as Vader was traditional. 

They shuffled over the grass, sabers crashing. It was tame, compared to some of the duels Piett had seen her engage in. A lot less hopping about with fancy tricks. 

"Not bad, Mother!" Skywalker called, laughter echoing through his voice. "Nice to see that you haven't been spending all those years sitting down." 

"HA!" Whatever Vader was going to say was cut off by a sudden stab that had her bending backward—almost falling into the carefully curated rows of tubers, tomatoes, and vegetables that Piett had planted. 

"NOT MY GARDEN!" Piett barked, visions of crushed tubers dancing in his head. 

Skywalker caught his mother's hand, hauling her back upright. Then shrieking a dozen curses as she grabbed the front off his shirt, and shoved. He staggered back, collapsed, and had to roll out of the way of a vicious downward strike. 

"SHIT!" 

"Language!" Vader laughed, her face alight with glee as the blades collided again and again. "Excellent parry!"

"I guess it doesn't matter if they are 16 or 60," General Veers sighed, joining Piett on the back porch and passing him a cup of tea. "Jedi love their fights and lightsabers. Who is winning?"

"I don't care as long as they don't crush my garden." He watched Vader execute a jumping spring flip that nearly decapitated her son as she came down behind him. 

"No fair," Veers muttered, "she can still bounce around like a kid, chopping heads off and such." 

Piett couldn't have managed such an athletic jump even in his prime; he was annoyed that Vader could in her late 60's or early 70's. No one knew Vader's exact age, not even Vader. 

He watched them fight a few minutes longer and figured that they might be at this for a while. 

"The Imperial delegation will arrive soon," Veers told him, watching Luke shove Vader back with the Force. She staggered, righted herself, and launched herself back into the fight. "Who do we want to greet them?"

"It ought to be Lord Vader," Piett mused, but he could only imagine what had been said about Lord Vader in the intervening decades. She would be the bogeyman for the entire galaxy, and he didn't want the delegation to faint when they met her. "But, I suppose that I'll have to go." 

He watched Luke get tossed over the garden, Vader following swiftly after, yelling. 

#$#$# 

Captain Irvi Tion was nervous all of the time. She liked to count the way that everything would go wrong, imagine the scenarios that went wrong, and then what would happen afterward. On liftoff from the SSD Duck Duck, she could entertain herself with twenty-six situations where the engine would explode, and they'd die or be stranded. 

She'd already planned her funeral several times and updated her will regularly. 

This anxious, doomsday thinking meant she was one of the best at risk mitigation and so methodical when searching for safety difficulties that she actually had a wait-list of people who wanted her to examine one process or another. 

It also meant that Emperor Thrawn enlisted her for the historic meeting where she was supposed to greet Lord Vader and the crew of the SSD Executor. 

Captain Tion could imagine, easily, Vader murdering her for the insult of being greeted by a safety inspector and not a general or an admiral. Her hands shook faintly, and she distracted herself with petting the droid that had been sent to accompany them. 

It was supposed to record everything.

"Thoughts, sir?" A stormtrooper asked from her right as the shuttle entered the atmosphere. 

"It's going to be interesting." 

Vader could rip the shuttle from the sky. She could kill them all in a minute. They were all going to die. 

#$#$# 

Luke panted heavily, sprawled over the scorched, and cut grass of his mother's back yard. Sweat trickled from every pore in his body, his shirt was soaked through, his hair was plastered to his head, and his lungs burned. 

Beside him, his mother was no better. She looked two parts tired and three parts exhilarated.

"Well done," she panted. "Impressive saber-play." 

"You too," Luke agreed, turning his head. "You should see how well Ben fences. He'd very good." 

"Ben?" She turned her head. 

"Named after Old Ben Kenobi," Luke reported, and he heard her grumbling furiously. 

"Name a child after that idiot," she muttered, "he stole the both of you from me." 

"He's dead," Luke responded. 

"True," she brightened faintly. "Come, we need to get cleaned up. The Imperial envoy will be here soon. As much as I'd like to, I can't leave Piett with all of the politics." 

He groaned, sitting upright with a petulant whine. "Fine, politics it is."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missions and meetings.

It turned out that Piett was halfway through discussing details with the Imperial Envoy when Vader slides the door open and steps through. The woman sitting in front of Piett clutched her datapad closer and squeaked in terror. All of the stormtroopers stiffened, doing their best to do impressions of boards or corpses. 

“Piett,” she growled, ignoring the fear now wafting from everyone who hadn’t crashed landed hear 25 years ago. “What is this?” 

“This is Captain Irvi Tion,” Piett said, handing Vader a cup of tea as she passed toward her empty chair. “Emperor Thrawns envoy. Captain, this is Lord Vader.”

“Hi,” the younger woman squawked, staring at the Sith Lord, who settled imperiously into her seat. “Sir..my lord.” 

“What have we discussed so far?” Vader demanded, and she stared at the trooper. “Why did they redesign the armor?” With a tendril of the Force, she pulled off the nearest troopers helmet and surveyed the design. Piett sighed as suddenly bare-faced man squawked. “Hm, this is better than the shit they dumped on the troopers. Better armor, Piett, look at this.” 

Obligingly, the admiral leaned over and surveyed the faceplate and interior. It did look much better than the previous lines of armor that had done little to protect their wearer. 

“We’ve discussed back-pay.” He told her, “and not much else.” 

“We also need doctors and medical equipment. A hospital ship would be best.” Vader mused, still turning the helmet over in her hands. “All of these old-geezers need heart scans and probably blood-pressure medication.” 

Piett didn’t point out that he had been on some of the strongest blood pressure medications during their combat years. The years had slightly mellowed Lord Vader, and as a result, Piett’s health had improved. He also didn’t point out that Vader was one of the older citizens on the planet. 

“Yes,” Captain Tion nodded. “We’ve...we’ve sent word that we’ll need geriatric.” She paused, blanching even further as Vader and Piett leveled an angry glare her direction. 

“Geriatric,” Vader hissed, tossing the helmet back. The trooper caught it. “Geriatric. Honestly.” 

“You are old,” Luke Skywalker called cheekily. Piett rubbed his forehead as the rebel poked his head into the room. “Captain Tion! How are you?”

“Fine,” the woman lied faintly. “How are you?”

“Excellent, don’t glare at me like that, Mother.” 

“Out!” Vader barked, “this is classified Imperial business. We don’t need rebels mucking it up.” 

“Rebels?” Piett didn’t look up. He didn’t need too. He could hear the grin in Skywalker’s voice. “Rebels? Mother! I’m a respectable member of society. I’m a Jedi Master!” 

“Out!” 

“It’s nice to see you, Captain Tion.” Skywalker said, “can you add a walking stick to that order. My mother is going to need one.”

“Ah.” 

“The only reason,” Vader snapped, “I would need a walking stick, is to break it over your backside! Out!”

“Very well,” chuckling, Luke Skywalker waltzed from the room. 

Piett often felt the Vader deserved having two rebel insurgents as children, her former padawan as the rebel spy, and her husband as the founder of the rebellion. If it was the work of the mysterious force or just fate, Piett needed to feel that someone was throwing Vader’s temper and mistakes back in her face. It was refreshing to see someone giving her a headache. 

“You couldn’t have brought Dameron?” Vader demanded of the still-shaking captain. 

“Dameron is a Republic officer.” Tion bleated. 

“I’m aware,” Vader wasn’t even looking at her. “Furthermore, I don’t want anyone gunning for blood. Veers, myself, and others have made significant enemies and while I’m sure our sins are already chronicled in history books, I’d rather not have to kill everyone with the foolish idea of revenge.” 

“Ah...no...you were all declared KIA. The Empire has already established a system of reparations. Erm...and adding you and the others to the mix might cause more problems than it would solve. The subject of planetary security has been raised. While news of your survival hasn’t been released, there is a possibility that people might try to...seek revenge. Attacking you personally, and the planet.”

“Hmmm. And what is this about being in Coalition space?” 

“Technically, you’re in the space run by President Kitster. You’re well behind the border of Coalition space, but because you’re...Imperial, we were given permission to come. You’ll need to choose a representative.” Piett glanced at Vader, and she stared back. 

“We’ll find someone,” he promised and gamely ignored Lord Vader’s glower. 

The rest of the conversation was nominal. Most of their concerns had already been considered—another sign of Emperor Thrawn’s incredible foresight. A delegation from the Coalition would be coming to visit and there would be more and more politics. 

After Captain Tion and her delegation left, interviewing the other inhabitants of the planet and making her way to her guest quarters, Piett turned to Lord Vader. 

“No.” She said automatically. 

“I’m afraid that you have the most experience with politicians.” 

“Which is why I’m not going to do it.”

“You have the best interests of the troops at heart.” 

“I am too controversial.”

“Kitster is your brother. Chancellor Organa is your daughter. Emperor Thrawn is your former subordinate. They all know you.” 

“They all fear me,” Vader corrected. 

“Excellent. We need someone who can ensure that we’re all not going to be left destitute and murdered in our beds.” 

“I have done more than enough damage and I have fought plenty enough,” Vader snapped. “I will not venture back out into the viper’s nest. I would like to pass the rest of my days peaceably.” 

“The rest of your days will not be peaceable if any of the governments get in our way.” Piett pointed out, much to her chagrin. “I do not understand, you willing to die for the galaxy as it is now, but you’re entirely unwilling to live for the people who need you to?” 

Vader whipped her head around, amber eyes glowing, and she bared her teeth. “What?”

Feeling braver than he had any right to, Piett stared down his superior officer and continued. “At the eleventh hour, you decided to protect your son, and you murdered the emperor. It was an encounter you hardly survived. If you had died then, this place would not have come together so well. We might not have even survived the jump and then the wreck.”

“Oh no, you all would have died.” Vader agreed easily. “But it would have been painless.” 

The ghost of his near-death brushed a cold chill up Piett’s spine. He was more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit. 

“You have done a fine job keeping the men alive and managing in my absence.” Vader retorted. “You ought to continue.” 

“Only when you were too ill or aggrieved to manage.” In truth, Piett and Vader, in conjuncture with Fel, Veers, and a few others, managed the soldiers. Since they had spread out after the wreck, and short wave radios were limited, the local decision-makers often did their own governance. Piett managed the surrounding area and town, and Vader was the ultimate authority. Once a month, there was a conference between the local leaders, Piett, and Vader. Vader traveled the most often, and kept a personal eye on the goings-on, even if it didn’t look like there were specific goings-on. She was also the ultimate authority in a trial and had executed more than a few soldiers. “If you didn’t want to handle the possibility of protecting the crew from dying in a fiery crash to the point where we were rescued, then you shouldn’t have bothered to save us at all.” 

Vader froze, her expression torn between irritation and shock. Piett wondered if he’d finally gone mad or if Luke Skywalker had induced insanity. The Jedi wasn’t here to step between himself and the Sith. He was just considering who he would leave his tea-cups to when Vader rolled her eyes. 

“I wasn’t expecting to live this long.” She told him. “I didn’t expect to survive the wreck.” 

It had been close. Too close for comfort. Too close for anyone to be happy. Cody and the other clones had set up a constant vigil outside her tent, each one fearing she was on the verge of death. But she’d survive the first harrowing night, then the second, and then the third, until two weeks later she’d finally opened her eyes. 

Piett still shuddered when he thought about how weak she had been. So weak it had been utterly terrifying to be in the same room as her. Vader was the grim reaper. He couldn’t imagine death coming to steal her away without a battle. He wondered if he should tell Luke the truth about their wreck. 

“You have, and I am not one for intergalactic politics.” 

“Old age has made you cranky,” Vader scoffed, insulting Piett to his core even as he was happy that Lord Vader was comfortable around enough to make jokes instead of her stiff formality. Whenever she got formal, he knew he was in trouble. 

“Not all of us need to mellow from being a warlord.” He felt much better with Vader at the helm. He always had. 

3434343

Din Djarin wasn’t impressed with the Imperials sitting across from him. They were stiff, nervous, and were eying the warriors around him with worry. He was a little more impressed with the Republic officer, a grinning pilot still in his orange fatigues and making faces and noises at his son. 

The baby grinned, chewing idly on his toy as Dameron wiggled his fingers his direction. 

“What’s this about? He demanded, cutting through the fussing and politics.

“I found a shipwreck.” Dameron turned away from the baby. “An Executor-class star destroyer.” 

“The first...Executor-class star destroyer.” The Imperial officer said. “Erm...it was.” 

“Lord Vader is alive,” Dameron said, “So is most of her crew.” 

Vader was alive? Din blinked. Lord Vader was a bogeyman. The Burning Mother. Hated and understood in equal terms. Din was sure he’d burn down just as much of the galaxy if someone had supposedly murdered his son. He glanced at the baby on his lap. She had to be old now. Skywalker was old, so was Organa. 

“What does she want?” 

“Care for her soldiers and not to be attacked randomly and continuously.” The Imperial officer told him. 

“I see.” He would have to consult with Cara and the others to make sure they were sure what they wanted to do with her. Vader was...controversial, to say the least. Her grandkids were nice if a bit odd. 

He genuinely liked Luke Skywalker who came by to tutor his son and to give Din holocrons to set aside for when the kid was old enough to use them. R2-D2 was even tolerable, even if he was insane. 

“We’ll not attack.” And old Sith Lord was not someone Din wanted to test his darksaber with. She could easily win it and then rule Mandalore in her twilight years. 

“Thank you,” the officer sighed. 

##$#$#

“Artoo,” a small voice echoed in the hold of the ship. “We’re here.” The ship was quiet, having landed and expelled its contingent of supplies and medical officers. Beru Skywalker stuck her head up. The ship was empty and the boarding ramp led onto a grassy plain that looked a lot like New Alderaan. 

[We are.] Artoo whistled, and together they wiggled out of their hiding spots and moved down the boarding ramp. 

There were a lot of adults moving around, and a lot of older people too. The was an enormous ship crashed on the mountains nearby, and it looked like something out of her storybooks. She could feel her father nearby, and the enormous presence of her grandmother. 

Just a few feet away, sitting on a short slope, was a man she recognized but didn’t recognize 

“Excuse me,” Beru bowed, and the man looked shocked. “But can you show me where my grandmother is?”

“You can see me?” The man asked. His eyes tracked over her face and then over to Artoo. “Wow.”

“I’m Beru Skywalker.” Explaining that she could see ghosts was too much effort.

“A little general.” The man grinned. “I’m Cody.” 

“You look like Rex,” Beru said. Captain Rex had died years before she’d been born and he was one of the few ghosts she’d never been able to summon or find. “Not my brother Rex, but the Rex from the old holos.”

“Huh,” Cody stared at her. “You want to see the general?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled as he guided her through the town. People, soldiers, and sailors all turned to stare at her. A few gaped, more began to laugh, and Beru ignored all of them. She was on a mission. 

“So why are you here alone?” Cody asked. 

“I’m not alone,” Beru pointed to Artoo, who rolled along beside her. “I’m with Artoo.”

“How is he? Can he see me?” Cody asked, “I remember him when I was alive. We used to go on missions together.” 

“You went on lots of missions with Old Ben too,” Beru agreed. “And Grandpapa.” 

“You,” Cody stared at her. “You’re uh...an odd kid.” 

“I know.” Beru grinned as he floated up a short set of stairs and then through the door. Her Grandmother was close. “Come on, Artoo.” She climbed up the steps, ignoring the crowd behind her. She knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal an old man with wispy white hair and a thin face. He goggled at her. “I’m here to see my grandmother.” 

“Ah,” he gulped. “Lord Vader?” He turned his head slightly. “There’s...ah...a child here?” 

“A child?” A scratchy voice, deeper than Beru was used to hearing from women, echoed down the hall. Within moments the old man was gone and was replaced by her grandmother. Lord Vader was tall, with a square face and a scar over her right eye. Her dress was a lot like Shmi Skywalkers, and her braids were Naboo. A lightsaber hung from her hip, and her expression was gobsmacked. “What the hell?” 

Beru Skywalker stared at her grandmother straight in the eye, pulled her right leg back, and kicked her in the knee. 

“WHAT?” The woman yelped, grabbing her knee and staring at Beru. 

“That’s from Great-Uncle Owen,” Beru announced. “You big jerk.”

“What the hell?” Vader gasped, and the soldiers were scattering and giggling. 

Cody was laughing, and Beru’s message had been delivered. She turned on her heels and came face-to-face with her father. 

“Papa!” She beamed, “I delivered Uncle Owen’s message!” 

“What?” He gasped. He knew what Uncle Owen’s message was. He’d known it since Beru had announced it at breakfast two years ago. When she found Grandma, then she was supposed to kick her in the shin. “Beru! Did you just kick your grandmother?”

“Yes.” 

“Artoo?” Vader’s voice rose. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU LITTLE RUSTBUCKET?” Beru didn’t turn around, Artoo’s mission had been a lot different. He was going to zap her. Considering she could hear the electricity, Beru figured that both of their missions were complete. 

“It’s okay, Papa,” she told him because he was frozen. 

“What?” she heard the old man say, as Vader continued to curse and argue with Artoo and Papa stared at Beru, “is going on?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beru isn't sorry, and Luke hasn't told his mother all of the truth.

Beru Skywalker didn’t even slightly remorseful. She crossed her arms and legs, apparently peacefully meditating beside her father. Even as the man himself was rubbing his temples and sighing. 

Lord Vader was as equally knotted up as her granddaughter, but she was  _ glaring _ .

Firmus had to admire the young Jedi. Very few people had the guts and drive to  _ ignore _ Lord Vader when the full force of her temper was upon them.

“Beru,” Skywalker opened his eyes, “we discussed this. You are not supposed to follow orders from ghosts.” 

Ah, yes. The other deeply unnerving fact about Jedi that Piett could have lived the limited years left in his life without learning. Some Jedi could talk to ghosts. He poured himself a cup of tea to ignore the way Beru cracked and eye, seemingly making contact with an empty spot in the wair. 

“You said that Uncle Owen was usually right,” Beru piped up and returned Vader’s glare with on that carried the full weight of her youth and childish spite. 

Vader glared even harder. 

“Beru, not  _ hitting _ people. You cannot go hitting people.” 

“Cody is  _ laughing _ !” Beru defended, gesturing at a spot next to Vader’s head. The woman jerked around, glancing at the empty space and then back at her granddaughter. “And so it Uncle Ben.” 

“ _ Beru _ ,” Skywalker stressed with the patience of a man who had had this conversation a hundred or so times. 

“I’m not sorry!” Beru announced and crossed her arms again before sticking her tongue out at Lord Vader. 

The woman wrinkled her nose, and Luke rubbed his temples some more. 

“Beru,” his voice was soft, kind, and patient. The young girl wilted. 

“I’m not!” She said. “I’m not going to apologize!” The air hung heavy, and Beru sank into herself after just one of Luke Skywalker’s firm glances. Piett had to admire the man for being able to scold the child without a harsh word or any word at all. 

“Don’t do it again,” he ordered, and he turned to his mother with a smile. Vader expression was torn between utter fascination and annoyance. “Please don’t.” He said before the woman could speak. 

“She’s.” 

“ _ Mother _ .” 

Truly, Skywalker had a supernatural ability to handle the insane women in his family. From his insurgent sister, a Sith Lord mother, his deeply unnerving daughter, and probably his wife. Piett couldn’t imagine Skywalker marrying anyone sane. 

“Very well,” Vader scoffed and turned her attention to Artoo. “Come, you miserable scrap heap. Let’s see what sort of damage my son has allowed to come to you.” She rose and gestured for Artoo to follow. The droid buzzed but obeyed. 

“I’m going to call your mother,” Skywalker sighed and reached over to pat his daughter’s head. With an affectionate chuckle, he pulled her closer to kiss the top of her forehead. Beru went easily, brightening faintly. “Please don’t go kicking anyone else.” 

“Fine,” Beru whined, smushing her face into her father’s side. “Not even General Veers?” 

“ _ Beru _ .” 

“Ugh,” as her father stood, Beru flopped over onto the cushion space he abandoned and went limp, whining. “ _ Fine _ .” 

As soon as he was out of the room, Beru straightened and fixed Firmus with a grin. He blanched and tried to offer a smile back. 

“You have a question!” 

“Several,” he agreed and smiled inwardly as she waited impatiently for him to speak. When he didn’t, she offered the information with a grin that was both charming and bloodthirsty. “The Force ate him.” 

“Excuse me?” He clutched his teacup more tightly to avoid trembling. 

“The emperor,” Beru Skywalker chirped. “I told Thrawn, and I know Grandma wants to know, but she’s not going to ask. You can tell her. The Force ate him.” 

_ How? _ How did that work? How would...the Force  _ eat _ someone? 

“You didn’t try to speak to him, did you?” The reality was subjective for Force users, but surely there was a danger when a powerful old man was around a young, impressionable girl. Maybe the girl didn’t know better. 

“No!” Beru wrinkled her nose and looked so much like her grandmother that his breath caught. Minus the strawberry blond hair, she was a spitting image of Lord Vader. “Great-grandpapa told me.” 

Now he had to avoid spitting out his tea and set his cup down slowly. “Lord Vader’s father?” 

“Yep! He’s  _ a lot _ like Papa and a lot like Grandma. He doesn’t come around a lot. He used to babysit me and my brother. He’s my little brother. Actually, he’s my twin. He was supposed to be, but then he wasn’t and then he was born later. So he’s my twin! He’s Rex, and he’s got bright blond hair like Papa! He’s the baby. Not really a baby, but he’s little.” 

Firmus tried to keep afloat in the wash off information flooding the air. “Little?” Should he even ask about Lord Vader’s father?

“Not that little! I’m ten, he’s eight. You’ll like him. Owen and Rey are fifteen. They’re twins and you’ll like them too. I think you will. Owen is grumpy, and Rey is  _ nuts _ . I mean  _ nuts! _ She doesn’t get along with Ben. They fight all of the time. She once broke his nose, and then he.” 

“Young lady,” he tried to steam the tide. 

“I think Grandma is going to like Rex the most.” 

“I... _ why _ .” 

“He’s Rex,” Beru Skywalker shrugged as if that explained anything. 

A force-sensitive child who could see the dead. Firmus shuddered and wondered how many followed Lord Vader around. Her too bright and knowing eyes settled on him for another moment before sliding off to focus on an empty cushion beside her. 

“That’s not nice, Cody.” She giggled, and Firmus shuddered again. 

3$#$#

Jaina, Jacen, Ben, and Anakin all knew better than to bring up anything while their mother had  _ that _ expression on her face. For once, the dinner table was quiet. No arguments, no fighting, and even their father was too worried to be noisy. 

“So,” Chancellor Organa cleared her throat, and all four children look up from their dinner. Thunder crowded over her eyebrows, and all of them were quiet. “I have news.” 

She’d had news for several days. It had been a tense few days. 

“My...your….” She turned to Han. 

“Vader is alive,” Han said without prompting. Four pairs of eyes widened in shock, and the bit of fish fell out of Anakin’s mouth.

“Our  _ grandmother _ is alive?” Jaina demanded. “What? Is that?” All of the children turned to Leia’s, whose thunderous expression hadn’t lessened. “Mom! Are you okay?” 

“That is irrelevant,” the woman’s grip on her fork was tight and vicious. “Children, you will hear... _ many things _ when the news breaks. I want you to keep an open mind, and to no rush into any judgments.”

“Isn’t she nuts thought?” Anakin wondered. “Like, spring around in circles sorta nuts?” 

“I have been assured that she is perfectly sane...or as sane as she’s always been.” Leia cleared her throat, reaching over to grasp Han’s hand. “You are  _ not _ to go rushing off to visit her.” 

“Why would we?” Jacen asked, and all eyes turned toward Ben, who shrank in on himself. 

“ _ What _ ?” He demanded. 

“Your uncle is visiting her,” Han cut in, “and apparently Beru rushed off to join him. Saying she had a mission from Great- Uncle Owen.” 

“Wasn’t that mission to kick the old lady in the knee?” Jacen asked. 

A brief euphoric silence descended as the four teenagers considered the image of their cousin kicking their grandmother. An infant against a legend and they knew who would come out on top. Identical grins lifted their lips. 

“Children,” Leia started and then paused. “We all know our history. We all know what she has done and what she is capable of. Do not do anything  _ stupid _ .” 

“It’s fine, Mom,” Jaina promised, “we won’t.” 

“We aren’t even going to meet her?” Ben asked, ignoring his father’s frown. 

“Hmmm,” Leia hummed but did not comment. 

#$#$# 

Mara Jade-Skywalker glowered at the holo of her husband, her green eyes fierce and angry. It was only because Rex had fallen asleep against her side that she wasn’t up and pacing around. “And  _ where _ is Beru?” 

“Doubtlessly terrifying Admiral Piett,” Luke said, his hand tucked into his sleeves at such an angle that she knew he was deeply amused. “She is fine, Mara. No injuries, no harm was done, and she was well-protected.” 

“Artoo is not protection!” She hissed, “and your mother is insane.”

“She’s mellowed,” Luke said, and shrugged, “somewhat. And Artoo is protection. Not to mention...Father was with her.” 

Mara frowned. “I’m coming.” 

“Mara,” he paused, and Mara glared at him as realization struck. 

“You haven’t told her?”

“Not...exactly,” he had the grace to wince. “She’s dealing with a lot.” 

“And you’re not sure how she’ll handle having a former assassin as a daughter-in-law?”

“Not that...she’s no angel herself...it’s more….” 

“Are you ashamed of me, Luke Skywalker?” She asked, knowing that he was not, but he flushed. 

“Beru is here, and there is no telling how she’ll react. I don’t want her to hear anything.” 

“You’re holding back because of Beru?” Mara felt annoyance rise swiftly. “You’ve been there  _ a week _ !” 

“Erm,” he had no more excuses, and the legendary Jedi master shrugged lamely. 

“I will be there,” she said and glanced down at Rex who’s bright eyes were peering up at her. “And I’ll bring Rex.” 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett and Vader argue the way they've never argued before.

Vader was a solitary woman when the mood struck her. Her temper wasn’t easy to soothe, and the week leading up to and following the anniversary of her husband’s death usually signaled that it was time for her to retreat from public. 

Piett had had plenty of time to become accustomed to Lord Vader’s quirks, so when she vanished from the town and her son was fussing over where she’d gone, he took his own walking stick and followed the smooth path to the top of the nearby ridge. 

She was there, sulking as she often did when the melancholy mood struck her. 

“Your son is looking for you,” he reported, sighing and more annoyed than ever. He used to be able to make the jump from the path of the boulder she was perched on, scrambling up the side with the grace of a man who’d rarely needed to climb into precarious positions. Vader, barring the times she’d been seriously ill, had always managed the mad scramble. 

“I am aware.” 

“And you have reports to look at.” 

“I am aware.” 

“And I don’t have time for you to sulk,” he said and watched as she turned around. With a smooth motion, she stood and hopped from the boulder. Tucking her hands behind her back, she surveyed him with an unamused frown. 

“You used to respect me,” she said bluntly. 

“I still do,” Firmus told her. “I always will, but at the moment, we are in a hell of your making, and I have run out of patience.” 

“I see; what upset you?” 

“I am not upset,” he said, following alongside her as they made their way down from the ridge. It was useless to resist, and after a few minutes of pointed silence, he cracked. “It is simply the fact that we must go through the effort of re-integrating into society, my lord.” 

“Oh?” 

“We are old,” he told her and Vader gave an affronted gasp. “I do not relish catching up on the newest reports.” 

“You are uncommonly annoyed,” Vader interrupted him, “is it Luke?”

“I have found that most of my problems come from Skywalkers,” he snapped and didn’t care if he upset the woman. “Twenty-eight years of tolerating this nonsense! You met your daughter-in-law and nearly brought the house down around my ears! You behaved abominably!” 

“She is an assassin!” 

“And it is our house! Repairing it is difficult! I do not want to sleep in the hostel. If you cannot respect your things, that is your business, but I helped build that house, and I would prefer it if you took it seriously.”

“She’s an assassin!” Vader protested. “A murderer! A lunatic designed to kill! A woman designed to destroy my son! She!”

“So were you!” Firmus barked, taking a sick sort of pleasure at the hate, regret, and rage that flickered over her face. He knew that face. Every morning before her caffeine, contorted in concentration, twisted up in suppressed amusement, sheer grief, and total despair. Stopping her in her track was worth the potential death sentence. “You took his hand at Bespin, and then twelve officers paid the price for your failure and your….your...temper tantrum!” Vader reeled back. “The entire planet’s reintegration into society and having the rest of our lives pass in peace depends on you! Your ability to maintain your calm and ignore those imagined slights.” 

Vader’s eyes narrowed, “Firmus,” she growled, but he remained firm. His own glare meeting hers with near-equal intensity. “He married the one woman designed to kill him.” 

“And he convinced the Emperor’s enforcer to throw the old man down a reactor core,” he said, breaking the unspoken taboo of mentioning Emperor Palpatine. “If you can change, then I don’t see why Mara can’t.” 

Vader stared at him, her blue eyes suffused with amber and the smaller blades of grass gathering frost. Every breath she took and then exhaled was reflected in the world around them. Firmus refused to bend and met her stare with as much courage as he could summon. Eventually, she sighed, and the grass thawed suddenly. “Very well.” 

They walked in silence for a bit, Firmus not having gotten over the shock of having told off Lord Vader and survived to tell the tale. Not that he would, it was an argument between him and Lord Vader. 

“I haven’t,” she stopped, and when Firmus stopped her jaw was clenching. “I do take you seriously. I take our house seriously.” 

“Hmmm,” he was still angry. He’d have to do more paper over the doors, and they’d only have one teacup for the rest of the week. Still, it was the most of an apology. It was as close as Vader was going to get. “Rex is here, hiding with Beru in the bakery.” 

“Hmph,” Vader scoffed as they wandered up the path that took them to their back garden. He sighed as he caught sight of Skywalker pacing across the back porch. 

“He isn’t happy,” he warned. 

“He has forgiven much worse insults than this.” 

“He is forgiving for himself...perhaps not for his wife.” 

Vader smiled faintly, “I’ll go talk to him.” She paused as a second figure joined Luke, short and barely past his knees. “Is that Rex?” 

“Rex Skywalker,” Firmus told her, “your youngest grandchild.” 

“I see.” Vader tilted her head back and stalked down the garden path, he followed hastily knowing that title of her jaw and the violence that lurked in her gait. She paused a few steps away, and Firmus wondered why she was so intent upon the child. 

Rex Skywalker had bright blond hair, dark brown eyes, and while stockier than the other Skywalker’s Firmus had met, looked a great deal like his parents. 

“Rex,” Vader muttered, glancing at Luke, who was equally confused. 

“Hi!” the small voice was clear and bright. “Are you still mad?”

“No...child...I am not.” Vader sank to Rex’s height. “Rex?” 

“Yeah,” he glanced up at his father and then at his grandmother. “You’re the General.” 

“I…” he saw Vader look down with a no. Luke’s expression twisted up again. “Yes...Little Rex...I am the General.” 

“Oh,” the blond held out his hand, and all were startled when Lord Vader swept Rex into her arms. The boy yelped in surprise and steadied himself quickly enough as Vader swept up the stairs and into the house. 

“Come, little Rex,” Vader intoned. “I believe we have some uglyberry pastries left.” 

Firmus watched them disappear and turned to Luke, who shrugged. “I don’t think she’ll try to attack Mara anymore.” 

“I hope not,” Luke sat down heavily. “It’s hard enough when Leia and Mara argue, but Mother and Mara were once comrades in arms and well as enemies.” 

“I cannot fault you for being Lord Vader’s son,” Firmus shrugged and sat down on the edge of the porch. “I can blame you for marrying an assassin.” 

“If you had met Mara the way I had,” Skywalker told him, “you would have fallen in love as well.” 

“You’re too kind, Farmboy,” Mara Skywalker appeared around the corner, her eyes alight with mischief. “I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight.”

“More like love at first assassination attempt,” Luke joked, and Firmus breathed a sigh of relief as Beru appeared beside her mother. 

“Grandpapa says that he met Grandma at an assassination attempt,” Beru piped up, and Firmus felt unsettled again. 

“Skywalkers,” he despaired and was met with a round of laughter. “I have headaches named after you,” he told them, “and an ulcer.” 

“That’s too bad,” Luke shrugged. “I don’t think mother would like it if you croaked.” 

“Doubtless she would kick down the doors of hell and drag me back under the complaint that I was not properly dismissed.” He shook his head. Once he had thought that he would survive long enough to transfer out of Lord Vader’s sphere of influence, but that thought and desire had faded decades ago.   
He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but at Lord Vader’s side.


	8. Recordings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recording and a press conference.

Security Recording: HMS Executor: Bay 34

Labeled - Vader’s Announcement (CLASSIFIED) 

Standing in the bay were the thousands of crewmembers, and atop the balcony was the primary command crew. Some of the rails were twisted and broken, and in a section where the rails were gone completely, sat Lord Vader. 

Lord Vader was only draped in her outer robes, but a medical suit from neck to her feet was faintly visible. Her head was half-bandaged, and beside her stood a medical team, Captain Firmus Piett, General Maximillium Veers, Commander Cody, and others.

“Crew,” Vader’s voice was harsh, and half-ruined nonetheless boomed over the bay. “It has been over three weeks since the Lady Ex crashed on this planet. This planet is not in our database, and it is doubtful that this has ever been documented.” She paused. “The Lady Ex will never fly again.” The crew shifted nervously, but Vader’s reputation prevented serious whispers from breaking out. “With heavy damage sustained on the launch bays and the destruction of the entire contingent of shuttles and TIE fighters...it is doubtful we will manage to achieve space-flight for some time, and it might not be possible to achieve hyperspace.” Now whispers broke out. Vader paused, pressing an oxygen mask to her face for several minutes to breathe deeply. When she spoke again, silence fell. “The damage to engines is such that there is only enough power to keep the ship’s primary systems running for another two weeks at full crew capacity.” She paused again. “The Lady will be scuttled.” Dead silence from the crewmembers. “Everything salvageable or useful will be stripped from the Lady and re-made. Preliminary expeditions onto the planet’s surface tell us that the atmosphere and soil are optimal for breathing and farming. Studies will be made of the various plants and animals on the surface to test for toxicity and to ensure that they are safe for consumption. The focus will be survival and attempting contact with any vessel, friendly or otherwise, that might be in the system. It is entirely possible that we are entirely alone.” Vader paused, pressing the oxygen mask to her face again. Kix shifted, pressing close to his commander. “We are soldiers, pilots, engineers, warriors, mechanics, and we must all become more. Our survival depends on our adaptability and cooperation. This crew has never failed me before...and now you cannot fail yourselves.” Vader paused again, taking a deep breath from her oxygen mask. “Admiral Piett will explain the rest.” She stood, slowly and carefully, and leaned against Kix as he ushed her from the bay. 

Recording Paused 

Captain Tion took a deep breath as she stowed the recording in her bag. There were more, a dozen more. Some enterprising officer had built a log of everything that had happened. True, it was a personal journal, but after they’d spent over a month training a camera on the command crew and everything that was happening, it was commandeered. There were oodles and oodles of documentation. Most of it was stored on datapads, but the crew had managed to build an entire library...and they’d made paper! Really good paper too! 

“We kept most of the data stored here,” Lt. Vanka, a now-elderly man with snow-white hair and impressive laugh lines, pointed to a sealed footlocker. It was an expensive brand, a bit dented, but it had maintained the optimal atmosphere to store several hundred datapads of information. Most of it was technical, there were video recordings, and someone had taken hundreds and hundreds of snapshots and stored them. They were labeled with the year they’d been taken in, and then they’d been labeled with the people and what they were doing. “Documentation...Com Stat thought we ought to do as much in case people couldn’t...in case we weren’t found. 

“It’s genius,” Captain Tion assured him. “This was the stuff of history books. Some of these images would be in their own books, and every single one of these crew members could be rolling in millions of backpay. Not that they seemed to have much use for money. 

“And you’ll find Lord Vader’s things under classified. They are for heads-of-state only. We didn’t expect her to...ah.” 

“Expect what?” Captain Tion watched the man blink a few times. 

“Survive,” he whispered. He glanced around furtively. “Lord Vader was in a terrible state after the wreck, and more recently...she was out of commission for a while. We’ve lost a good many men...but we...Lord Vader was...we didn’t expect her to survive.” 

“Hmm,” Tion had a feeling that the man wasn’t telling him everything. She’d seen how busted Lord Vader was on the recording, but she couldn’t guess what had happened to her. Exactly what had happened to Emperor Palpatine was pretty commonly known. He’d been thrown down a reactor shaft by Lord Vader, but what had possessed her to throw him down a reactor shaft was unknown. Skywalker didn’t discuss it, and Vader was supposed to be dead. 

Palpatine must have done something to them both. 

“What else have you got?” 

$#$# 

Emperor Thrawn didn’t bother to smile as Chancellor Organa descended the ramp. Technically, none of this had anything to do with the Republic; but Vader was Organa’s biological mother, and a Republic pilot had found her.

“The first ships with necessary medical supplies and medical teams have touched down,” he told her without much preamble. “And the initial prognosis is good. However, I did receive news that Master Skywalkers family has joined him.” 

“Only Beru and Rex,” she corrected sourly. “The twins are still mucking around the temple. If they show up to hitch a ride, send them straight to the brig.” 

It was a joke. Thrawn didn’t want to temp the temper of a Jedi Master, his assassin wife, and the hundreds of hot-blooded friends loyal to them. 

There were so few Jedi left that kidnapping one brought the entire galaxy on your head. 

“I doubt that you are much pleased with making the announcement that we’re going to be working on rescuing and recovering the Executor, commander intact, but there are other troubles on the horizon.” 

“Pro-Palpatine supporters on the fringe.” 

“Yes, clamoring for the “good-old-days” and enacting terror attacks on civilian installations. I fear that announcing Lord Vaders survival, as well as the survival of her crew. Despite the fact that Piett and the others were known to be loyal primarily to Vader, they were still loyal to Palpatine’s empire.”

“Vader has no love for the Empire,” Organa assured him, “at least, anyone who has anything decent to say about Palpatine. She’ll kill them if they contact her.” 

“I cannot hope for pointless death, but Vader herself denouncing these fools would perhaps be the bulwark we need against them. There are plenty in the Empire who still cling to Palpatine’s ways.” 

What he didn’t say was that this group was well-funded, well-armed, and ready to try and wrest control of the Empire away from him. He didn’t mention that this First Order was more dangerous than he’d lead his contemporaries to believe. 

$#$#$3 

Rex Skywalker was the cutest kid on the whole fucking planet. Really, he was short, blond, friendly, and he didn’t give out unsettling facts that only dead people knew. He was serious, with an unusually adult frown on this face, which vanished as he napped against Vader’s side. 

Vader, for once, seemed to be relaxed. Lounging on a hammock strung between two trees with her grandson sleeping beside her, she looked almost normal. 

Veers didn’t trust it. 

“She’s got to sleep,” Mara Jade-Skywalker, just as dangerous as her husband and twice as ruthless. “She’s cranky if she doesn’t.” 

“She’s cranky always,” Beru muttered, appearing at her mother’s side and giving General Veers an unnerving stare. Her eyes slid past him, and he shuddered to think about who she might be seeing. Without a word, she ambled over to the hammock and climbed in. 

Vader scowled but made no move to eject her, and before long all three of them were napping. Mara Jade slipped out a holo-camera and took a quick image with a vicious grin. 

#$#$#43

Emperor Thrawn always looked calm and collected and standing in front of the hundreds of reporters. Beside him were Chancellor Organa and President Kitster. 

“Less than two standard weeks ago,” Emperor Thrawn began, “and the emergency beacon was intercepted by a Republic officer on patrol. Obeying protocol, this pilot followed the beacon and discovered a vessel that had been downed on a previously unknown planet.” The room twitched nervously. “This vessel was Imperial, and it’s last logged location was the Battle of Endor.” Reporters began to move and mutter. “The HMS Executor,” the room exploded into noise and questions that Thrawn waited to calm down before continuing. “Was found scuttled and inoperable, but the majority of the crew and it’s commanders survived.” 

“Is Vader alive?” Someone shouted, and Thrawn nodded. 

Again, the noise exploded, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to elaborate without quiet, they fell silent. 

“Among the survivor is Lord Vader. Those related to the men and woman presumed dead will be contacted and given an opportunity to speak with their family. Backpay for the crew will be paid, and other such matters will have to wait until constant contact has been established. The planet was located in Coalition space, and President Kitster will speak on the future of this crew.” Thrawn stepped aside and let the younger man step into the limelight in a moment that would be watched through history.


End file.
